Just a Small Favor
by Rune-Spirit
Summary: oneshot LetheoxCandy Candy muses at the end of the second book... just randomly popped into my head a couple months ago when I finished 'Days of Magic Nights of War'


RS: What can I say; I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. This is post DMNW, and it takes place on Huffaker.   
It's mostly written because there aren't enough fanfics in the Clive Barker section and there are none of this pairing. Therefore it's not a piece of work I slaved over, so don't judge it too much. I didn't put the editing effort in, nor did I bother to find a beta. I just typed and posted. Oh, and the only reason it's PG instead of G is… well, I just felt like it.   
Enjoy!   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. The world of Abarat and its inhabitants are the sole property of Clive Barker and Harper Collins publishers, with movie rights going to (can you believe it!) the Walt Disney company. (Hopefully they won't ruin it. They seemed to be okay with Chronicles of Narnia, but…)

* * *

**Just a Small Favor**

"_Would you… do me a favor?"_  
"_What?"_  
"_Take my hand?"_  
"_Oh…" she couldn't help smiling, despite everything. "Sure."_

What a curious thing to be thinking about, and an even more curious time to be thinking of it. Here she was, alone and lost in the vast lands of Abarat with no one to guide her, and thoughts of only one person plagued her mind.

'Letheo…'

He was on the _Lud Limbo_, she supposed, though she'd not witnessed his boarding herself. She had, of course been whisked away unto the wondrous island of Huffaker before being capable enough to take account of anything. She clutched her heart, dearly hoping he was all right.

Though, what if he wasn't? Surely someone would have seen him and fished him from the violent sea. But, then again, what if they hadn't? Could Malingo or the John brothers have seen him and pulled him from Izabella's depths? Perhaps they'd left him to perish, aware of his less than virtuous associations. She hoped not seeing as, with having the John brothers aboard, preaching sin would surely be the pot calling the kettle black.

"… _the boy who brought me here– his name is Letheo– is somewhere around here, and he's hurt."_  
"_Well, we'll have to leave him to the tender mercies of some passing Samaritan," Diamanda replied, "I can't risk anything happening to you."_  
"_Can't we take him with us?"_  
"_Are you fond of this boy?" Diamanda said in her usual, straight-forward manner._

Was she fond of Letheo? Who knew, really. He was a handsome boy, not too much older than she was, though he probably had a good year on her. He was, in all likelihood, already sixteen, plausibly almost seventeen. (1)

He was well built for someone his age; there was simply no denying it. She'd told him not to be nervous upon the removal of his shirt, that she had two brothers and that he was just another boy to her, but she couldn't have resisted taking notice. He was muscular, chest well chiseled, though not bulky. More… lean and fit. He donned the attractively formed physique of an athlete, but one built for stealth.

His bestial golden eyes were magnetic, locking her own mismatched ones to their swirling depths. He had those messy, achromatic ringlets framing his face. They fell thickly in loose waves, leading her to resist the temptation of running her fingers through their black depths. His lips were thick, though not overly so, his upper almost always shadowed in a foreboding sense. It seemed as if they were always present as well and staring her in the face, though that could possibly be a consequence of his superior height.

"_No. I just promised I wouldn't leave him, that's all. And I don't like breaking promises."_

She hadn't lied to Diamanda; she had promised Letheo that she'd stay. The poor boy had been injured and had seemed so very scared. No one would've wanted to lie to a victim like that; she couldn't bear to have had one of those awful creatures finish him. She never liked breaking promises, but this time the thought pulled at her heartstrings with exceptional vigor.

And, she wasn't fond of the assassin in training. Of course not, she'd already decided that. She didn't _like_ him, she'd merely established that he wasn't lacking in physical attributes. He was built, chiseled, handsome…

She wondered for a fleeting moment if his mouth was as soft as it appeared but quickly shook the matter off. Letheo was only her friend, if even that. He happened to be– to _have been_ under the employment of the late Christopher Carrion, not exactly a positive acquaintance of hers. Though, he stood up to the prince of midnight, and that took courage… strength.

Indeed he was strong, with the heart of a lion… but the soul of a beast coursed though his veins.

"_As it happens, I know of this boy. He has a curse in his blood, did you know that?"_  
"_Yes. I saw. He needs to take medicine, he told me."_

"The medicine…" It escaped Candy's lips a mere whisper as the thought dawned on her, eyes widening, and her wandering mind came to an abrupt halt.

"The medicine!" louder this time, the words rang through the air. Her voice carried through the wind, spreading her message across Huffaker and surely catching the attention of some of the wildlife.

Had Letheo, that sweet, gullible, manipulated boy, taken his medication?

* * *

(1) I can prove his age. In chapter 21, "Night Conversations", the bottom paragraph of the 4th page of the chapter (pg.169 in my copy of the book. It has a split picture of Gorgossium around the words.), it says "Only a youth called Letheo, a fifteen-year-old Carrion had found wandering the mud mines a year back or so had…" that's how I can tell his age. It had been more than a year, so he's already 16 and probably going on 17… oh god I have no life.

RS: So there's my non-edited, quickly typed attempt at fluff. Try not to be too mean when you tell me how bad it is.


End file.
